


Radio.

by Babylonian



Category: Original Work
Genre: this is abt my own personal life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 14:15:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7364716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Babylonian/pseuds/Babylonian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What's it like being a normal kid?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Radio.

What's it like to be a normal kid?

I sit on the edge of my bed, the radio's tunes filling my ears. I think about the past few years, how once everything used to click and form into place. 

I was 6 years old. My father took me to a baseball game, and we sat together and watched as the players run across the field, and I didn't understand. I didn't understand the appeal. I didn't understand why my father loved this so much, but yet I still had fun. 

I was 8 years old. I was young, I was in 2nd or 3rd, I didn't understand the world. I didn't understand my emotions, I didn't understand my overwhelming sadness. No one died, no one was hurting me. My home life was okay. But I felt tremendously hurt, like as if someone was after me. 

I was 10 years old. I already attempted suicide, and yet I am only in the 5th grade. Death threats are placed on my locker, names are shouted at me. I'm a whore, huh? My dad wants to fuck me, huh? I'm a fat ass, huh? I'm an ugly good for nothing piece of shit? That's okay. I stare at the knife, lifting it up and pressing it to my throat. I pause, and set it down. Not today.

I was 12 years old. I press a knife to my chest, feeling the blood pour down. It hurts, it burns, and I let a whimpered cry slip through my throat. I'm reminded of when I'm 9 years old, and someone felt through the fabric that separated my parts from the world. I was 9 years old, and my innocence is taken from me in seconds. The person I love most, the person I care for most, left me in a heartbeat. I am 12 years old. I do not care for my life. 

I was 14 years old. Remembering how nobody cared for me, my best friend leaving me the month before. I am dirtied, treated like a sex slave. Sure, I'll give you a blowjob. Sure, talk to me about filling me with your own... I couldn't finish the sentence. I was taught to please, and I remember those who left me. I chose to cut my chest again, feeling emotionless as blood pours down. It doesn't matter. I'm numb. My own children are dead, my father is calling me names, a fire took what mattered most. I am failing my classes. Death is near.

I am 16 years old. Almost all of my friends left me. I am fearful of my own future. I am terrified of when I will die, terrified of the truth, terrified of who I have become. I don't care anymore. I stopped caring a long time ago. I glance over at the liquid poison on my desk every day, wondering what would happen if I drank it all. I only have a few loved ones left. 

The radio blares on, shifting from commercials and then songs, commercials, songs... always changing. Between the commercials, I wonder what my childhood could have been. 

What would life be like if my father didn't abuse me as he did?

What would happen if I never met them?

What would happen if I was like every other child, perfectly good childhood? 

It's too late to change now. I'll go on like the radio, repeating songs and shifting to the new thing. It doesn't matter. I will always change. I will never change what already happened.


End file.
